


coming undone

by rainingover



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Internal Conflict, Love is hard, M/M, Melancholy, Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingover/pseuds/rainingover
Summary: Hangyul isn’t new to this; he knows what a crush feels like, and he knows it’s stupid to be crushing on Seungyoun, but it’s not like he asked for this. He didn’t wake up one day and think,might as well fuck around and fall in love with my roommate, it just happened without any warning, like a storm over calm water.(Or, Hangyul pines and Seungyoun tries not to.)





	coming undone

**Author's Note:**

> i had to get my self-indulgent feelings out. i hope someone out there enjoys it!

Hangyul isn’t new to this; he knows what a crush feels like, and he knows it’s stupid to be crushing on Seungyoun, but it’s not like he asked for this. He didn’t wake up one day and think,_ might as well fuck around and fall in love with my roommate_, it just happened without any warning, like a storm over calm water.

His room, once a place to relax and unwind, is now suffocating. When Seungyoun is there, Hangyul can hardly breathe, and when Seungyoun isn’t there he aches with a longing he can’t quite ever shake off. 

They climb into the car after a day of press and Yohan turns to him. Says, quietly, “There’s something up with you.”

Hangyul laughs it off. Says, “Yeah, I’m exhausted. We all are!”

“No, that’s not it.” Yohan shakes his head. "Something's bothering you." He doesn’t say anything more, waits for Hangyul to speak.

"I'm hungry," he replies, simply, and then he turns away and stares out of the window of the car until they get back to the dorms, the scenery passing by in a blur of confused thoughts.

That night Hangyul sleeps early, except he isn't sleeping, he's awake for most of the night, lying still, eyes closed, wondering how he let himself be so damn stupid. He doesn't want it to happen again, doesn't want Yohan— or any of their group mates— to be worried about him. He can handle this, he decides. Feelings change; they dissipate.

These ones, the ones for Seungyoun that came out of nowhere, blooming inside of his chest everytime Seungyoun laughed, or squeezed his hand, or shut their bedroom door behind him and stretched his limbs, his t-shirt riding up over his stomach and that damn distracting tattoo. Fuck, that tattoo is _ killing _ him, and he's thinking of it now as he lies there in the dark, Seungyoun sleeping across the room.

He can handle this. 

Dohyon has a nightmare about an alien with a knife a couple of weeks later, and Hangyul is reminded of his age, a child in an adult world, growing up faster than his childish dreams will allow. He lets Dohyon sleep in his bed three nights in a row, fusses over him like he’s his real brother, teases him and strokes his hair when he wakes up in the morning. It’s a welcome distraction from wanting to slide into bed next to Seungyoun and ask if he can kiss him.

Dohyon forgets about his nightmare, learns to sleep in the dark, and in time he comes to sleep in their room less and less. 

Hangyul isn't avoiding Seungyoun, he tells himself, but as he spends more and more time in the living room and less time in their room, he is struggling to lie to himself. It's just— well, it's easier this way. He likes rooming with Seungyoun - objectively, feelings aside, he is a good roommate. He's cool and he's funny and chilled out. He has a good taste in music. They work together. If this were another time, another universe, and he wasn't distracted by thoughts of sinking to his knees and begging his roommate to let him suck him off, Hangyul would want to spend all of his time with Seungyoun.

But he wakes up confused, half-dreaming, most mornings, and the first thing he sees is Seungyoun's sleeping face, or his bare shoulders, or - worst of all - all of it, his sleep shorts low on his hips, his hair messy across his pillow, blanket thrown off in the night, and it's starting to take every ounce of self-restraint Hangyul has not to imagine waking up pressed close to that.

So, he avoids it. He falls asleep in Dongpyo and Yohan's room accidentally-on-purpose on more than one occasion. He hangs out with Wooseok, and then with the younger members, playing games and helping them plan their outfits. He feels like he hasn't been home (because that's what it is now, the room they share) in days when he slips into the room just before midnight on a Friday night. 

He's hoping Seungyoun will be sleeping, but of course he isn't. He's going through his closet when Hangyul enters, and he turns and smiles at him and says, “Do I look good in green?” 

Hangyul swallows the lump in his throat. “What?” 

“I’m trying some new clothes on,” Seungyoun explains. "I'm wondering if I can put green with one of these jackets."

“You look good in green." Hangyul sits down on his bed. Seungyoun murmurs something that could be a thank you, and then he starts to unzip his jeans. "Oh, are you— uh what are you doing?"

Seungyoun laughs. “We’ve showered together, I don’t think changing my jeans will scandalise you. Or will it?” He turns to face Hangyul, his fingers still at his zip.

Hangyul bites his lip. This is _torture_. “No. We haven’t done that in a while anyway.” 

"No, I guess not." Seungyoun turns back to the mirror.

The air is thick with the silence that follows, or maybe Hangyul is imagining it. 

He puts in his earpods and selects the chilled out pop playlist on his phone that he and Seungyoun curated together a few weeks earlier. They’d lain here, on his bed, both on their stomachs side by side and had picked songs one after the other, singing along when they knew the words, enjoying the ambiance— the _ vibe _ as Seungyoun had called it. Hangyul mainly enjoyed being with Seungyoun.

Hangyul presses play and allows the music to fill his ears. Seungyoun changes his outfit twice, critical eyes on himself in the mirror. He slips off a suede jacket and shrugs into a leather one, turns this way and that. He says something, but Hangyul can’t hear what, can just see his mouth (that mouth) moving in the mirror, and then he turns around and notices Hangyul’s earpods and smiles. “Oh, sorry,” he mouths, and then he goes back to what he’s doing, stepping out of his jeans, the muscles of his thighs all Hangyul can think about while some low-fi break-up song reverberates in his head. He turns the music up and closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, Seungyoun is no longer there.

Seungyoun returns to the room fifteen minutes later with wet hair and pink cheeks. "Are you tired?" He asks, towels his hair roughly. His tank hangs low on his chest.

"Why?" Hangyul stares. 

"I thought maybe we could do a radio broadcast on V-live, for the fans." Seungyoun watches him carefully. "Unless you're planning to go to someone else's room in a while?"

Hangyul can hear his heartbeat in his ears. "Why would I do that?"

Seungyoun smiles, eyes lighting up kindly. He reaches out and presses a hand to Hangyul's knee. "I don't mind! Don't look so worried. We're gonna be together for the next five years, I'm not offended that you wanna hang out with the others." He laughs as he gets up. "Ah, you're cute sometimes," he says.

Hangyul can't hide his smile, but that's okay because Seungyoun is no longer looking at him.

They get time off, just two days, in between schedules, but it's a welcome break, and Seungyoun goes home, leaving Hangyul their room to himself for forty-eight hours.

It's been more difficult to be around him lately, but Hangyul is getting used to it. It helps that they're so busy. There is always something to do - practice, performances, endless plane rides and a lot of failed attempts to sleep in between it all - and if he really tries to, Hangyul can pretend that he feels about Seungyoun the same way he feels for the rest of his group mates: a fond affection, brotherhood, _ friendship_. 

Now, though, he is alone with his thoughts for the first time in weeks and there's no denying how he feels right now: wanting so badly it hurts. And it’s pointless, he _ knows _ it’s pointless to pine over Seungyoun, and he feels guilty for it too, like he’s overcrossed some invisible line that most people know how to stay on the right side of. 

He puts his favourite playlist on, earpods in, and stares at the wall that they’d decorated when they first moved into the dorm. He remembers that day clearly— the excitement and noise, all eleven of them lugging cases through the hallways and making their mark on the empty apartment. Making it feel like a home. He remembers the way that Seungyoun had looked fondly around their space after the excitement had died down, little parts of them scattered around. How he’d turned to Hangyul with a smile and had said, “We really match well, don’t we? We’ve made this room really cool.” 

Hangyul remembers nodding, breaking into his own grin, and saying, “We should make some different playlists to set the right mood in here.” 

Now, as he lets the music wash over him and take him away, he wonders if it means anything that most of the songs they chose are love songs. 

Hangyul works out with Yohan the next morning, plays videogames with Junho and Minhee, writes lyrics he pretends aren’t about Seungyoun in the notes app on his phone. They have a packed schedule tomorrow, but not until midday, so he doesn’t expect Seungyoun back from his own place until the morning.

He’s watching an American comedy show when Seungyoun appears in the doorway, overnight bag over his shoulder, glasses reflecting in the light of the screen. “Hey.” Hangyul sits up from where he’s sprawled out over his bed. “I thought you were sleeping at home.”

“You actually messaged the group chat for the first time in days,” Seungyoun says. “So I guessed you were bored.”

“Huh.” Hangyul smiles. “I guess it really is usually just you and Junho chatting in that thing.”

Seungyoun puts down his bag. His hair falls into his eyes. “I should have invited you back to mine yesterday, I’m sorry.”

Hangyul pauses the TV show. “Why would you do that?” he asks. 

Seungyoun looks good in an effortlessly cool sort of way. He always looks effortless, although Hangyul knows he cares more than he lets on. They all care about their appearance and their public image more than they’d like to admit— they have to. 

Seungyoun runs fingers through his hair to push it off his face. “To spend time with you.”

Hangyul looks at him for a long while. He wants to say something stupid, something reckless. Instead he says, “Your outfit looks good.”

Seungyoun smiles. “Come on, lets go out and get some dinner. I’ll pay.”

  
  
  


Hangyul starts to allow his mind to wander further after this, to indulge himself in possibilities. He holds Seungyoun’s hand under the table when they go out to eat, and Seungyoun looks at him curiously, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

He does it again, just once, but this time Seungyoun pretends not to notice, moves his hand onto the table and picks up his phone. Hangyul can’t eat the rest of his chapchae, allows it to go cold. Seungyoun looks at his phone for the rest of the meal.

There’s a night after a six hour stint in the practice room spent putting the final touches to the choreo for their next comeback when some of the younger members fall asleep in the living room, bundled together like rabbits. Seungwoo almost tears up. Says, “They work so hard.”

Seungyoun calls them cute and fusses over getting them blankets. Wooseok says, “Should we wake them up and suggest they go to bed? They might wake up stiff if they sleep like that.”

“It’s too cute. I can’t do it.” Seungyoun laughs. “It’s just one night, they’ll be okay.”

Later, Hangyul washes his face standing side by side with Seungyoun. Seungyoun smiles at him in the bathroom mirror. “I felt so proud when I looked at them tonight.”

“Same.” Hangyul looks up, water dripping from eyelashes, nose, chin. Says, “What about when you look at me? What do you feel?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking this, isn’t sure if he wants to know. It’s just— it’s getting too difficult to pretend he isn’t in love, like he isn’t about to take flight everytime Seungyoun glances at him in the practice room mirror, out of breath and unfocused. Seungyoun looks at him now, steady gaze, smile barely there. 

“I feel conflicted,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Hangyul doesn’t realise he’s holding in a breath until Seungyoun leaves the bathroom and he lets it out in one, shaky exhale. 

  
  
  
  


They fly to Japan for a concert a little after five in the morning, barely awake despite the screams of the fans and the flashes of their cameras as they see them off at the airport. Hangyul accepts the offer of a blanket from the air steward and tries to fall asleep in the window seat. Seungyoun sits next to him, scrolls through lists on his phone, hums along to the music he’s playing, tapping his foot to the beat. 

Neither of them have spoken about what Seungyoun said that night in the bathroom since, but that doesn’t mean that Hangyul has stopped thinking about it. He hasn’t. It consumes him, sometimes. He thinks about it when he brushes his teeth, pictures Seungyoun next to him in the mirror and tries to remember the exact look on his face as he’d said, “Conflicted.”

Hangyul is sure it looked like longing, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Are you sleeping?” Seungyoun taps his arm gently. 

“No.” Hangyul opens his eyes. “Just resting.” 

Seungyoun hands him one of his earpods. “Here, I made a new playlist if you want to listen to it with me.” 

“Will I know the songs?” Hangyul asks. He rearranges the blanket so it covers Seungyoun’s legs too. It’s nice, he thinks, that it hasn’t turned awkward between them despite everything. Instead, it just feels like there is an unspoken secret between them, something that simmers under the surface, in fleeting glances and thoughts that creep into his mind when Seungyoun changes in front of him.

Seungyoun smiles. “Probably not, most of them are from indie artists. But you’ll like them, I hope.”

Seungyoun closes his eyes as he presses play and Hangyul sneaks looks at his features in the morning light of the sky— his soft mouth, the slope of his nose, his eyelashes dark against his skin.

It’s Seungyoun who finds his hand under the blanket first, slides his fingers between Hangyul’s and stays that way until they land.

It's Wooseok who suggests they do a radio live, but then he leaves them in search for his slippers in his own hotel room after fifteen minutes of beginning the stream and never comes back again.

Sitting on Seungyoun's bed, they trade song recommendations and read out funny comments from fans, and it's so easy - just like the hours spent in their room when they'd first moved into the dorm, making playlists and sharing stories of the people they know and the things they've done.

Hangyul marvels at Seungyoun's natural talent for this: for treating an audience of fans like they're his friends, so smooth as he transitions from song to anecdote to replying to cute comments left by the fans listening. He's a people person, caring, funny, calming too, and listening to his voice makes Hangyul feel like he's floating on thin air.

"What's up?" Seungyoun mouths at him while they play an old english ballad.

Hangyul mouths back, "Nothing. Why?"

"Why do you looked distracted, then?" Seungyoun mouths, and it's funny, this, having a secret conversation in silence. 

He wonders, just for a moment, what Seungyoun would do if he told him the truth. Seungyoun is still looking at him, waiting for a response, and the song is still playing, someone singing about love, and longing, and heartbreak, so he just does it, mouths silently, "You're distracting."

Seungyoun looks away and Hangyul watches the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out and says nothing. Then he says, "Ah, this is a nice song isn't it? I think our One Its like it, it's very pretty."

And Hangyul is thrown by it, had almost forgotten the audience were even there with them. Seungyoun reads a comment asking them how they keep their throats and their voices healthy and launches into a story about almost losing his voice. Hangyul joins in and things return to what feels almost like normal, aside from the fact that he won't look Hangyul in the eye.

It's after midnight by the time they put their phones down, turn off the lights and slip into their own beds. They're only a foot apart, but Hangyul feels like there might be a brick-wall there, and it's his fault. He closes his eyes and scolds himself for pushing things.

He's almost asleep when Seungyoun's voice cuts through the quiet. “You know it can’t go anywhere, don’t you? This can't happen."

Hangyul's immediate reaction is to pretend to be confused; to claim not to know what Seungyoun means, to put it on him to spell it out for once. Instead he asks, "Why?" When he turns his head to look over at Seungyoun's bed he can see the outline of his shoulders in the moonlight slipping in through the gap in the hotel room curtains. 

"You know why," Seungyoun says. "There are hundreds of reasons." Hangyul can just about make out his face in the darkness. Even like this he wants to kiss him.

Hangyul pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Ask me what I feel when I look at you." 

Seungyoun sighs. "Hangyul..." He rubs his hand over his face. "No."

"Because you don't want to know?" Hangyul asks.

"No. Because it's a bad idea. Because I _ do _ want to know." His voice is quieter now. "Because I think I already do."

On the flight back to Korea, Hangyul keeps his hands folded in his lap.

  
  


It feels like they aren’t alone again for a long time. They’re ships in the night, passing each other by, and they’re rarely alone in their room. Dongpyo hangs out there, says it feels really cool, and Eunsang stops by more, Dohyon trailing behind him sometimes, the dark less appealing when he’s alone.

Seungyoun spends time in the studio and in other people’s rooms. He’s in Seungwoo’s room a lot. 

Hangyul pretends not to be jealous, but when he’s asleep his brain betrays him and he dreams about wandering hands and slow, easy kisses traded between a pair that doesn’t include him.

  
  
  
  
  


It’s after more than a few beers that Hangyul does it. 

He follows Seungyoun into the empty kitchen when they return from dinner, Seungwoo and Wooseok heading to their rooms with a tired smile and a soft goodnight, and says, “Are we avoiding each other?” 

He knows the answer (the answer is yes), but he can’t think of what else to say. And he’s hurting, he’s _ frustrated, _ and he wants to hear it from Seungyoun. 

Hangyul isn’t drunk exactly, but he’s not sober and neither is Seungyoun, who takes a bottle out from the top of one of the cupboards and turns to face him with flushed cheeks. “Yes.” He screws off the lid, pours the soju into a shot glass. “Want some?”

Hangyul nods, and Seungyoun takes another glass and pours it to the brim.

Dinner had been fun— an impromptu decision of Wooseok and Seungyoun’s, who declared they needed chicken and then spent fifteen minutes debating where to go. Hangyul wanted chicken, and they could drink with none of the younger members there, so when they’d said, “I assume you’re coming?” and had looked at him and Yohan, Hangyul had nodded automatically. 

Yohan had said he was too tired, which was fine, except now it was just the four of them heading out and as they slid into a tiny booth at the back of the restaurant, Hangyul felt overwhelmed by how close Seungyoun was sitting to him, bare arms knocking together every time they picked up their drinks. 

If this had been a couple of months before, Hangyul would have slid his hand down under the table and brushed his fingers over Seungyoun’s.

Tonight he hadn’t tried to.

“We’ve all worked really hard for this. You’ve worked really hard,” Seungyoun says as he hands Hangyul the glass, the liquid dripping over the side and over Hangyul’s fingers.

Hangyul takes a drink. “It isn’t going to just end if we— if something happens.”

“It might.” Seungyoun pours out more of the soju. “It scares me sometimes how much I care about you all. I care about ten more people than I used to. Dohyon is fifteen.”

“I know. I care about him too.” Hangyul steps in closer to Seungyoun, lowers his voice. Maybe they shouldn’t be having this conversation in the dorm kitchen. He takes another drink. “But I don’t want to talk about other people.”

Seungyoun’s eyebrows furrow and he looks down at the linoleum floor. “That’s the point, though, Gyul,” he says. “If I do what I want to right now, if I kiss you… “

“You want to kiss me?” It comes out in a voice Hangyul barely even recognises. He puts his empty glass down on the countertop. 

Seungyoun looks up. “Yes. _ Yes_,” he breathes, and the conflict he feels - he’s been feeling for months - is evident in his eyes. 

Hangyul waits for something to happen, for him to close the gap between them, but then Hangyul can’t wait any longer, because time goes too slowly and he’s been waiting for this since they met, or maybe just after it. Maybe it was just before they performed Love Shot that it had really taken hold, during long nights in the practice studio. Hangyul remembers the tireless way Seungyoun had kept going and going, pushing his body to its limits until all of them were collapsed on the floor, their chests heaving, and Seungyoun had turned his head, had met Hangyul’s eye with a grin, and had said, “Should we go again?”

So maybe it’s him who steps forward, or maybe it’s Seungyoun, he isn’t sure, and then they’re kissing, the door to the hall still open a jar. It’s rushed and it’s hungry, and Seungyoun has his hand at the back of Hangyul’s neck and his tongue in Hangyul’s mouth, and Hangyul crowds him up against the kitchen counter until Seungyoun’s head hits the cupboard above. 

They break apart at the noise, Seungyoun rubbing at the back of his head. Hangyul can hardly catch his breath, head swimming, heart racing. Seungyoun glances behind him, to the empty hallway, and then closes his eyes. “What are we doing?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem to need an answer, just takes a breath and shakes his head, and leaves Hangyul alone in the kitchen.

  
  
  
  


Even if he still feels conflicted, Seungyoun lets Hangyul hold his hand under tables and blankets again, which makes Hangyul want to kiss him again.

He lets Hangyul kiss him after they brush their teeth in a hotel room in Hong Kong, lets Hangyul pull him flush against him on his bed and press kisses over his jaw. When his phone rings, he ignores it, rolls his hips against Hangyul’s again and again, until Hangyul laughs against his neck and says, “You’re gonna make me come like this.”

He doesn’t though, not yet. Their clothes come off easily and it’s with Seungyoun’s hand around him that he does come, desperate and pliant and euphoric in a sleepy daze.

  
  
  


Then there are nights in their room back at the dorms, door locked, playlist playing over the bluetooth speakers, as he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of Seungyoun’s shorts and pulls them down slowly. He takes Seungyoun into his mouth, works him over and then looks up at the long column of Seungyoun’s throat as he throws his head back and tries not to moan. 

“I wish we could make a playlist out of these moments,” Hangyul says, voice low at Seungyoun’s ear as they lie on his bed, blissed out, a couple of weeks later.

Seungyoun’s trails his fingers lazily over Hangyul’s waist and laughs. “Don’t tempt me.”

They kiss until they hear their names being called from the lower floor, and then they wash and dress and flirt with cameras until they’re exhausted.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


They flirt onstage, fanservice at its core, but it means nothing compared to the kisses they share behind a closed door afterwards. “I really like you,” Hangyul whispers against Seungyoun’s bare skin, hand sliding over his stomach, down past the tattoo at his hip and between his legs. He’s said things like this before, they come naturally, spilling from his lips like little prayers. 

Seungyoun says, “Keep doing that.” He bucks his hips, thrusts into Hangyul’s hand and pointedly ignores the words that Hangyul mumbles when he comes over both their chests later that night in the dim light of their bedroom, although they ring in Hangyul’s ears over and over once he says them.

(“I think I love you.”)

In the morning, Seungyoun tells him, “We shouldn’t do this anymore,” and he showers with the door shut, dresses in his underwear and a tank before he comes out again. 

Hangyul thinks, _ I can handle this, _ but he knows he’s lying.

  
  
  


Dohyon fusses over him over the next few days. Wise beyond his years, he looks Hangyul dead in the eyes and says, “I don’t know why you’re sad, hyung, but I can tell you are.”

Hangyul says, “I’m okay,” but Dohyon sticks to his side anyway, and Hangyul wants to cry.

He doesn’t cry, but his chest is tight, and he wants Seungyoun’s touch, and his laughter, and he wants it all to be his. He feels stupid for saying something so reckless, even though it must be as clear as day that he’s in love. He doesn’t exactly hide it well, and even in public, sometimes, he finds himself watching Seungyoun with a tender ache, lost in a trance.

“I didn’t mean it,” he tells Seungyoun a few days later when they turn the lights out. His bed feels cold. “What I said the other night, about loving you. It came out by accident, we’d just fucked and... I don’t… We don’t_ have _ to stop.”

Seungyoun sounds as sad as Hangyul feels when he says, “We should never have started.”

Hangyul doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.  
  
  
  
  


It’s Dongpyo who asks them to do radio v-live, just like they used to all those months before. He says, “It was relaxing, and everyone on the fancafe wants it back.” They don’t have a good reason to say no, although every interaction between them has felt strained for months, and Hangyul hates it because he realises Seungyoun was right when he’d said that starting something would change _ everything _.

Everything except for the way Hangyul feels, because he still feels it - is still in love.

He thinks he sees it in Seungyoun’s eyes too sometimes, when they catch each other’s eye by accident. Or maybe he’s just been wanting Seungyoun to love him back for too long.

They sit on the floor between their beds and set up the laptop to stream audio only. Seungyoun’s shorts ride up over his thighs as he leans over to start the stream, but he doesn’t bother to fix them.

They talk to the fans, respond to comments and questions, Seungyoun’s soothing tone matching his thoughtful responses. Hangyul talks about growing up with much older siblings, and then they talk about their upcoming comeback, giving hints but no spoilers, and laughing at the fan’s requests for them to dye their hair bright colours. 

It’s nice, Hangyul thinks; it’s the first time in months he’s felt like he can breathe, and Seungyoun is lining up songs from their old playlists— the ones they made when they first moved in— and he’s smiling to himself, and Hangyul can’t help but reach into the space between them and take Seungyoun’s hand.

Seungyoun falters for a moment, looks at their entwined fingers, and then up at Hangyul. Hangyul feels dizzy with the intensity of his stare. Seungyoun rubs circles on the back of Hangyul’s hand, and they stay that way until they end the stream.

“It can’t end badly if it never ends,” Hangyul tells him later between kisses, and they both know that they’re playing with fire, but it’s nice to pretend for a while that they’re not jeopardising everything, that nothing matters except them, now.

“It should never have started,” Seungyoun breathes, his teeth at Hangyul’s shoulder, his palm at the front of Hangyul’s sweatpants, but he doesn’t stop. Instead he kisses Hangyul like it’s the only thing knows, as their new playlist plays over the speakers behind them.

Later, as they lie close in the dark, Seungyoun whispers, “I’m in love with you too,” and Hangyul holds his hand tightly until they fall asleep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lilacsui) // [CC](https://curiouscat.me/rainingover)


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